Actions Speak Louder Than Words
by stephmcx
Summary: In hindsight, it should have been clear from the moment he woke up in the field hospital, finding Danny at his side, watching over him. Danny had flown all the way, all of 7,500 miles, to fucking Afghanistan to save his ass and why would he do that? (Coda to 4x21)


In hindsight, it should have been clear from the moment he woke up in the field hospital, finding Danny at his side watching over him. Danny had flown all the way, all of 7,500 miles, to fucking Afghanistan to save Steve's ass and why would he do that?

_I had to make sure you were okay._

As it was, the revelation came a little later, after a seemingly never-ending flight home, after Danny dropped him off and went to his own place where Amber was waiting—or so Steve supposed. After a painful phone call with Catherine, where pauses and unspoken words rang louder than the actually spoken ones.

_I love you, too._

Under normal circumstances, Steve would have gone for a swim or a run or he'd have gotten smashed. He'd have done anything to exhaust himself, to stop thinking, to forget. Anything to get rid of the memories, the confusion and the conflicting emotions that had taken a hold of him.

As it was, he hurt and there was no easy escape or distraction tonight. His arm was busted and in a sling, his ribs were broken and sore and the left side of his face was still severely bruised and swollen. There was no way to swim or run or exercise and the pain killers wouldn't allow him to drink anything stronger than apple juice.

Steve hurt and he finally dragged himself up the stairs, long after Catherine had ended the call. There was a pile of her clothes at the foot of his bed, that she had left when she'd packed in a hurry. The room seemed empty without her, strangely silent, but her voice kept echoing in his ear. Steve bit his lip. She wasn't here, she wouldn't come back anytime soon and she did not want his help.

_Aloha. _

He sat down heavily on the bed. Unlacing his boots took an embarrassingly long time and left him short of breath and he clenched his teeth against the pain. He kicked his boots off and leaned back a little, trying to even his breathing but suddenly there was Hassan's voice in his ear, Hassan's hand in his hair—surprised, he yanked his head to the side and nearly fell off the bed with a yelp of pain. Son of a bitch.

_Let this man's death be a lesson to you._

Without bothering to undress any further, Steve crawled onto his bed, groaning with relief as the pain eased with lying down. He hadn't noticed that he'd closed his eyes, and wasn't sure if he'd dozed off, but when he blinked his eyes open again after a while, he half expected to see Danny's face next to him. A ridiculous sense of disappointment came with the realization that he was alone.

He thought of Danny and for a foolish moment wished for Danny to be here with him. Danny, who had flown all the way to a war zone, who had watched over him, who had stubbornly stuck by his side through the CIA interrogation and who had brought him home. Why did Danny leave him alone now?

_Let's go home._

Steve shifted on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position but failed. He hissed in discomfort when his ribs protested at the movement and then sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his good hand. The lights were still on and he left them like that. He stared at the ceiling and it's familiar patterns, let himself drift and felt his eyes droop after a moment, but sleep wouldn't come.

Instead, he heard Catherine's voice, distant and crackling over the satellite connection. He saw Danny's face, saw Hassan's face, felt Hassan's men holding his arms and forcing him to his knees. He heard Hassan's sermon, a voice full of hatred for the unbelieving. He felt Danny's gentle touch on his arm, soothing.

_Until you bow to his will, you will never be saved.—I can't come back until I find him.—We shall bring the fight to your shores, blood will be spilled in your streets.—Listen to me, you've helped me enough.—Men like this, they cannot protect you.—You understand why I need to do this, don't you?—Plus, you owe me 500 from that poker game._

Everything was mixing up, thoughts and memories running across and in circles through his mind, confusing him, overwhelming him. Steve rubbed at his eyes again, trying in vain to wipe away the tears that he couldn't stop anymore.

He was being held down, felt movement behind him, Hassan striking out with his saber, but then bullets started flying and he woke with a start. He gasped and blinked his eyes open, taking in the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. Fuck, he must have dozed off again. Steve took several breaths, deliberate and as deep as his hurting ribs would allow, while he felt his heart hammering in his chest.

Get a grip, he told himself. It was okay, he was at home now, Danny had saved him. Danny had flown all the way to Afghanistan to save him. Again. Why had Danny done it? Steve knew without hesitation, he would go after Danny just the same.

He should go back then, he should go after Catherine, too, and help her. But Catherine was gone, she didn't want to be found, and why didn't she want his help?

There had to be an answer in this somewhere, if he could just focus a little more. He contemplated getting up to get himself a glass of water and tried to roll onto his side, but when a wave of pain washed over him, he decided it wasn't worth the effort.

Again. Danny had saved him, _again_. That word made it through the fog in his head and caught his attention. It seemed to mean something. Danny had saved Steve's life before, several times actually, and more often than not he had risked his own life and health and sanity. Like that time they had rescued him from Wo Fat in North Korea, and Danny had risked going to jail for espionage and treason—or worse, falling into North Korean hands himself. Or that time, all those years ago, when Danny had ditched Rachel and Grace and stayed in Hawaii to bail Steve out of prison. He had ditched _Grace_ of all people! For Steve.

What it then came down to, following this particular line of thought, was that Danny cared for him, worried about him—that Danny loved him like family. Steve's exhausted mind stumbled and came to a sudden halt. Wait, love?

A smile stole itself onto Steve's face. Was it really this simple? He couldn't help but laugh. It hurt his ribs, made him wheeze and sobered him up quickly, but the ghost of a smile remained on his face. Did Danny love him? The same way Steve loved Danny? Hadn't they even told each other that, not so very long ago?

He had come to admit, after that building had collapsed over their heads and only to himself, that he might be in love with Danny and maybe had been for a while. There were things he would do for Danny, had already done for him, that he would never do for anyone else, not even Catherine. As much as he loved Catherine, and he did love her, that wasn't a lie, but if it was Danny in Afghanistan right now, Steve would already be on a plane back and nothing in his way would stop him.

That must be why Danny had flown all the way. Because it was what they did for each other.

He held onto that thought of love, pondered for a moment what this revelation really meant, if and what it had to do with Amber or with Catherine, but when his mind and his body finally gave in to the exhaustion, he thought of Danny as he fell asleep. He had found his answer.


End file.
